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world?"
"We have tried to find out. Mice, unfortunately do not take well to
being tagged. But we've tagged a number of them in the hope that we
will discover where they go."
"I've noticed in the papers," replied Miss Agatha Merrit, "that there is
a veritable plague of rats. The Chicago World had an editorial about
you ... did you see it?"
"No," he admitted. "But I'm rather pleased. What did they say?"
"It seems that the Chicago World was plagued with rats until they got
about two dozen of your Better Mousetraps. That fixed them. Now
they claim that your invention came along at the proper time. The
world is about to beat its path to your door, Mr. Manton."
Peter shrugged. "Most inventions are made to fill a definite need," he
said. "Discoveries are made because of man's curiosity. An invention
is an aggregation of discoveries collected because their principles
add up to the proper effect to take care of the necessity. I'm glad that
I was able to make this invention of mine. It seems timely."
Senator Treed rapped for attention and the committee came to order.
"This morning," said Treed, "we will have open discussion of the
problem."
General Hayes nodded and said: "This much is known: The mice are
delivered somewhere out of Manton's Better Mousetrap. I wonder if
some foreign power might not have discovered even more of its
powers and is using it to plague America?"
"That seems far fetched."
"Not at all. It might be likened to a bacterial warfare. Pests will vitiate
a country as well as war—weakening a strong country to prepare it
for easy conquest."
Tag Harris of the FBI Laboratory shook his head. "There's more than
meets the eye," he said. "I've definite proof that some human agency
is working at it."
"You have?" demanded Senator Treed. "Tell us."
"We tagged rats and sent 'em through one of Manton's traps. Later
we used one of the old wire-cage affairs. Someone had gone to the
trouble of counterfeiting some of our tags. Out of fifty-seven rats
caught with tags, we found a duplicate number. Someone obviously
caught a tagged one from wherever it was sent, and in an effort to
confuse us, made duplicate tags and sent 'em back."
"Deliberate!"
Admiral Grayson of Intelligence nodded. "Tomlinson of Psychological
Warfare says that's what he would recommend to spread confusion.
You see, this Power would not stop; they would also know that we are
trying to find out all about it. Therefore they would prefer to add
confusion to our search. Hence the duplication of tags."
"Could you tell the real one?"
Harris nodded. "Easily. The original one was well worn because the
rat had more time to go roaming. The duplicate was almost new."
"They never did turn up with that key tag of Andrews, did they?"
"Nope."
"No one but a suspicious Power would conceal such a thing now that
the search for it is out. The answer is obvious."
Treed nodded in agreement. "I shall recommend that Congress offer
an award of twenty thousand dollars to whomever gives information
to bring the truth to light." He shuddered. "This rat business is terrible.
My wife is nearly out of her mind. Last night she swore that she saw a
rat appear on the floor beneath the dresser. I hushed it, of course, but
that is why I'm bringing this committee to order on the subject."
"Perhaps Manton's device just hurls them back and forth across the
country."
Treed shook his head. "Manton's Better Mousetrap doesn't work that
way," he said with conviction. "Thanks to Manton's little registers we
know that Manton's catch—overall—has been rising but definitely
following the increase in rat population over the entire country. You
see, gentlemen, Manton's traps have been made to fill a demand in
every case. It started with friends who needed them. You're sort of
insisting that Manton's traps come assembled with its own mice."
That got a big laugh.
"And," said Senator Treed, "God help the one who is responsible for
this!"
Tony Andrews entered the salesroom and smiled at the clerk. "Look,"
he said, "I've been a good customer."
"You have," agreed the salesman. "I know you. I'm Tom Locke."
"Well, Mr. Locke, I'd like another one of those key tags."
The salesman nodded. "Those things are popular," he said. "But what
happened?"
"I dropped mine through one of those Better Mousetraps."
"Oh," laughed the salesman, "they've been returned from every
portion of the globe. But I guess the mail service isn't too good from
wherever That is."
"I'd hoped it would come back," said Andrews. "But I'm wrong. And I'd
like another one."
"Sure. Be glad to. Since you're the man who originated the idea with
us."
"I'm sorry to have to ask—What? Originated what?"
"Why yes. The tale goes that you came in to buy a car quite some
time ago, and the salesman saw the tag on your key ring. He
mentioned it to Mr. Cagley who is our advertising manager. He had
the tags made up and we gave them out to our best customers."
"Then you've got me mixed up with someone else. For I received
mine as they did. Mine came in the mail and cost me three cents—
which was as good an advertising stunt as the tags themse—"
"Mail? Mail? We gave them in person."
"But mine came through the mail."
"Sorry. We've never sent any of them through the mail."
"Oh," said Andrews with rising suspicion. He took the new tag with
thanks and returned to Peter Manton's home.
"Peter, is Junior handy?"
Manton nodded and called. Junior came. Then Andrews said: "Junior,
have you ever seen anything like this before?"
Junior nodded. "Last winter. Found it down in the cellar on my sled."
"Sled!"
"Uh-huh. Then because it said to drop it in the mail box if found, I did.
You got it, huh?"
Andrews nodded. "Yup," he said. "I got it! Peter Manton, you haven't
seen the end of this, yet."
Manton frowned slightly. "Why?" he asked.
"You've really built the Better Mousetrap, and you haven't seen the
people who are going to beat their path to your door. They haven't
really arrived yet. But they will!"
The first to arrive was the FBI. Then Peter Manton's domicile was
changed from a town in Illinois to a cold stone place in Washington.
Ted Harris faced the Court. "Here is the originator of the Plague of
Rats," he said. "And the saviour of the country at the same time. He
is in the position of a physician who poisons people so that he can
save them. A sort of stinking benefactor."
"Will you please explain to the Court?" demanded the Court.
"The field set up by the Better Mousetrap at the plane of cleavage
hurls anything that passes through it backwards in time. The time-rate
is indefinite and uncontrollable. However, this is why Manton's trap
was so effective. On Monday a plague of mice appears in an
apartment. The master of the place goes out and rents one of the
Better Mousetraps. He places it in his apartment and during the time
it is there it hurls mice backward in time to create the plague!
Naturally, the trap will be removed as soon as the mice stop—and
because the trap will be removed in a few days, the trap itself stops
the flow of mice."
"But how far back—?"
"There's little correlation. It just hurls. It is aimless and uncontrollable.
In one case, a key tag went back several months."
"But how come nothing was known of this?" demanded the Court.
Tag Harris smiled. "When I have something that will utterly destroy
something, I do not place anything valuable near it," he said. "In
Manton's own laboratory the boys dropped spare parts through it. In
hardware stores all over the country the clerks were dropping screws
and nuts and the like. Most of this stuff fell to the floor and was swept
up a few days to a week before."
Tag Harris held up a scrap of newspaper. The date was four days in
the future.
"Proof," he said. "I'll be sending that to myself later."
"And the tagged mice—the duplications?"
"Animals that had gone through the time-trap twice and were living
their lives in parallel. You see, your honor, not only did Manton's
Better Mousetrap hurl mice back in time, but it could hurl the same
mouse back to the same era several times—and the Plague of Rats
was a Man-Made Plague."
Epilogue—
'Tis said that he who laughs last laughs best. The world who beat a
path to Peter Manton's door in anger because he built the Better
Mousetrap, returned to thank him anyway. You see, with mice being
hurled backwards in time, they lived and they died in the mad rat-race
in time. And America, for its trouble with more rodents than it could
stand for a short period, now reaps its reward. For America is free of
rats.
THE END.
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAT RACE ***
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